


Holding on With Both Hearts

by vjs2259



Category: Babylon 5
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2009-03-08
Updated: 2009-03-08
Packaged: 2018-02-09 12:56:40
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,606
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1983813
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/vjs2259/pseuds/vjs2259
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Set on Minbar 2271. Anniversaries only have to mean something to the one who observes them.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Holding on With Both Hearts

_Minbar 2271_

 

 

The rain was pouring down outside. It sheeted effortlessly off the crystalglass windows, repelled by some innate characteristic of the crystal, leaving no mark or trail. There were no rivulets to follow with your eyes, no twisted winding paths to occupy your mind and distract you from your inner thoughts. The rooms in their quarters were soundproof, so there was not even the comforting steady drumbeat of raindrops to lull you into near somnolence. John missed the sound of the rain.

 

It was Delenn's day; the only day of the year that she spent apart from him, deliberately, and of her own choice. Not all day, just part of it; her retreat lasted from from sunrise to noon. Then she would emerge from the small room in their quarters set aside for personal meditation, the same as always, serene, beautiful, enigmatic; the same woman he'd fell in love with all those years ago. He was welcome to join her there, any day but this one, from sunrise to midday. Almost ten years now, since they had made their home together, here on Minbar, and he had respected her wishes every year. He was usually able to fill the time easily enough, but somehow this year, it had fallen out that he had a free morning. It was almost embarrassing how he lingered outside the door, counting the hours until he could see her again.

 

All those years, and yet it seemed like yesterday.

 

******************************

 

The rain formed an appropriate backdrop for her yearly ritual. Delenn sat in darkness, a single candle flame on the windowsill illuminating the cascading water behind it, a shadowy waterfall outside the small still room. The sun was already up, but the grey, low-hanging clouds kept the room dim. Once a year, every year, she set it free; that part of her mind that was scarred by fear and etched with doubt. It was simple, and easy, to forget--during the rest of the days, and the nights, spent in his company. Or even out of it, for they had many duties that kept them apart. Still, there was a bond that she could feel, an almost physical tie that stretched between them. It was only this day that she let herself think about the future, and the past; when that tie had been, and would be, broken.

 

As her mind settled to her yearly task, errant thoughts flitted across her consciousness. The annual Remembrance Ceremony was to be held soon. Originally marking the end of the Shadow War, it now commemorated all those lost in battle for the Alliance. This year, Susan Ivanova would be in attendance, finally back from her years of exploration on the Rim. Although she had made visits, they had been few and far between. Now she was to be reassigned to EarthDome. Delenn was looking forward to seeing her friend; and perhaps seeing her more often than their busy schedules and long distances had permitted in the past. David was thrilled. John's tales of the Wars had led David to settle on Susan as his favorite character, and she was the one he play-acted in his imaginary battles that ranged throughout the garden.

 

Delenn smiled to herself; she thought Susan would be pleased by that fact. Then she returned to her meditation. It took time to release, and then to face, her demons.

 

*************************

 

John puttered about in the kitchen, looking at the supplies they had on hand, thinking he might pull together some lunch for the two of them. That would be a surprise, and hopefully a pleasant one. As he took out various fruits (always a good bet, and peel-and-eat was his favorite recipe), assorted wafers and flatbreads, and spreads containing the Minbari equivalent of vegetables. He rummaged in the back of the cooler; there was one he particularly liked, bright orange...there it was! Ze'shan, that's what it was called, and it was spicy-hot yet served cold. He'd been surprised the first time he'd tried it; after his initials experiences with Minbari cuisine, he'd decided they preferred subtle flavorings. There was this whole sub-culture of hot and spicy food that he quite liked, and Delenn always made sure there was some around for him. When they weren't attending formal diplomatic affairs, most of their evening meals were prepared for them in house, or delivered. But she liked to keep supplies for breakfast and lunch, so when they had time, they could prepare a meal and eat together, as a family.

 

As he worked, he wondered again at the timing of her yearly ritual. It must mean something special to her. At first it had seemed erratic, a different day each year, but as the years went by, he realized it was only erratic by the Minbari calendar. It conformed to a specific day each year by Earth reckoning. So it was probably something to do with him, or their time on the station. It wasn't their wedding anniversary, either of them; the one that corresponded to the hasty ceremony held on board the White Star orbiting Earth, or to the longer more formal ritual they'd undergone on their arrival on Minbar a year later. First date, the shan'fal ritual, the first time they'd laid eyes on each other; nothing matched up. Nor did any of the more public or political events in which they'd been involved. He tried not to think about it, but it was a puzzle, and occasionally he would worry at it a bit. It didn't matter; it meant something to her, obviously, and that was enough.

 

He wished it would stop raining. If it did, and the ground dried enough, they could eat outside. Picnics were not a Minbari tradition, but she seemed to love them. Or maybe it was just that she loved him. After a while, it became impossible to separate the impulses; to give and to receive, to love and to be loved. It all got tangled up.

 

************************

 

Once a year, every year, Delenn allowed her imagination free rein. What would it be like when he left? She'd lost him before, of course, and it had been terrible; the guilt and pain had almost subsumed her. When he had asked her to join with him in marriage, in full knowledge of the time limit set upon them, she hadn't hesitated. But here, in these few hours, once a year, she reconsidered. What would have happened; would it have been any easier if they had gone their separate ways, joined at some level, but not further? Here she could be brutally honest with herself, and also let her worst impulses out; the ones that arose from fear and rage and selfishness. Could she, or should she, have done anything different?

 

It wasn't that she didn't know the answers to these questions, she did. But she had vowed to herself that day, when she had accepted his proposal, and his fate, that she would not let any of these things do more than color their time together. Like a bitter herb in a complex dish, the knowledge could enhance and accentuate their time together, or it could overwhelm and ruin it. Revisiting her decision, and reviewing the years gone by in this ritual, served to confirm her in her original choice. It gave her some measure of peace to 'let it out' as the humans would say, but privately, as a Minbari would do.

 

Looking at the candle, whose light was barely visible, she realized the rain had stopped. The clouds were lifting, and so the light of the candle seemed dimmer. As one light faded, another arose to take its place. One more year gone by, and one year less left. Looking at the chronometer, she realized it was almost midday. She'd skipped the morning meal; there was still time to get something. She didn't have anything scheduled for a few more hours.

 

*********************************

 

Delenn entered the kitchen area to find John surrounded by dirty plates and stained cutlery, half-empty bowls and open containers.

 

He felt like he hadn't seen her for years, and at the same time as if she'd never left his side. There was a tray laid with the beginnings of a meal, and he gestured towards it, his hands, and heart, wide open. "I hope you're hungry," he said with a broad grin.

 

She paused, taking a moment to memorize how he looked at just that moment, storing away the mental snapshot for the future. At his questioning look, she moved closer, then put her arms around his neck, fitting herself into his return embrace. "Not really."

 

He looked at her with barely concealed amusement, and pretended to be shocked. "Are you speaking less than the complete truth? Cause I know you didn't eat breakfast this morning."

 

She looked down briefly, considering her options, then up at him through her lashes. "That is true. And I am hungry, and it looks wonderful. It is just that there are more urgent desires pressing on me than those for food." He responded with a slow smile, and then with a deep lingering kiss that stopped both the push of time and the pull of duty. As always, as they melted together, she felt the rush of love and desire that sent her soul careening and cascading down crystalline heights, like the high, tumbling waterfalls of her beloved home. And this year, as every year, she repeated to herself the words; his words, the words that had saved her life, ten years ago today:

 

_'If you're falling off a cliff, you may as well try to fly.'_

 

 

 

 

 


End file.
